


Tearing Open

by shyasamouse



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Developing Relationships, F/M, Lots of Background, M/M, Open Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2391431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyasamouse/pseuds/shyasamouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each race has a different way to identify their soulmates. Bilbo Baggins never expected to find his. Kíli never believed he wouldn't. Thorin Oakenshield thought his One was to far away to ever be found. Tauriel wondered if she would take too long to find her mortal love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this took me much longer than I ever expected it too. 
> 
> First things first, no beta but myself so if anything is really bad, let me know. On that note, I know hardly anything about the Valar so the first couple paragraphs are pretty much bs on my part. If something needs fixing, tell me and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Soulmate identifying things come from littleblackdog's and TheARTboss's fics but I promise I didn't take any plot ideas or copy their fics. I just liked some of the ways to find soulmates they used and borrowed them for a bit. 
> 
> Also, this switches between 4 POVs, Bilbo, Thorin, Kili, and Tauriel, and each break indicates a change in POV. I tried to make it very obvious which POV it is but if it's not, I can change it. Timeline is mostly the movie one. 
> 
> Lastly, the ending is rather abrupt. If anyone wants to know my personal hc for what happens after, I'll be happy to share. But I kinda like giving people the freedom to decide on their own.

It is said that when Eru first designed the races and placed them in their new homes to wait until the world was completed, each one slept next to the other half of their souls. The two bodies were curled against each other, waiting until the time when they were allowed to explore the world. When they did awaken, it was supposed to be with their love by their side.  
  
But Melkor loved chaos and corruption, and he slipped sneakily into Arda and separated the lovers on a whim. The other Valar did not realize what he had done until it was too late and the elves, chosen to be first, were beginning to wake.  
  
Eru quickly decided that he could not pause the awakening long enough to rearrange everyone. Instead he decided to bless the elves, who were the first to wake, with the ability to find their soulmates themselves.   
  
Although this was not the original plan, Eru soon saw how useful the ability could be and how it could help the people of Middle Earth as later generations were born and went looking for their soulmates. The gift allowed all future members of the race to know their love was out there and to have a way to find them. 

 

So Eru gifted the still sleeping races of dwarves, men, and hobbits with the gift also. As the races are very different from one another, each was given an unique way to find their other half.   
  
Elves, in their immortality, may have to wait many years to find their love and so were gifted the simplest way. They dream of the face of their soulmate and will recognize them immediately, and when their soulmate is born or receives their gift of finding, the dreams will become stronger and more vivid.    
Men, being fickle creatures in love, have a pull of varying strengths, tugging them in be direction of their other half as soon as they become an adult. Some follow their Pull to the ends of the world, and some never even feel it.   
  
Dwarves keep their secrets well, but those who know them know that names are of great importance. A dwarf will have two names in their life, a deep name hardly ever spoken and then only by loved ones and an outer name to be called in public. When they reach their coming of age, the deep name of their One will etch itself onto their wrist. This is why dwarven courtships are often long, as they want to be sure of the love between them before revealing their own deep name or the one on their skin.   
  
Hobbits are the only race besides Elves to have the ability to find their soulmate from the moment they are born. Like Elves, dreams play at part but instead of seeing faces, hobbits hear the voice of their Match. Listening to it every night means even the smallest whisper by their soulmate will be noticed and responded to.   
  
Many people will wander far and wide, searching for their one love. In this the hobbits are the only outliers, being that most them only have a few days walk to meet everyone in the Shire. In the summer, festivals will be held all around the Shire, where young hobbits who have not found their Match are encouraged to sing and socialize. A hobbit not finding their Match in the Shire is very rare and ends one of two ways. One, the hobbit never finds the courage to leave the Shire and go looking amongst the outsiders or they do and are normally never heard from again.   
  


* * *

  
Bilbo wasn't sure what was more likely to cause him to lose his reputation and position, never meeting his Match or going on a journey to find him.   
  
(And him it definitely was. The same richness to his voice that told Bilbo he was male also implied that his Match was not a hobbit. No hobbit, no matter how round, had a voice that deep. That meant either a man or a dwarf was his Match. He honestly wasn't sure which he'd prefer, although a dwarf would at least be the proper height.)   
  
Either way, Bilbo would lose his respectability. It was rare for a hobbit to be Matched with an outsider, and even if they were to return to the Shire together and he adopted hobbit ways, people would still watch his soulmate with suspicion. Better, he thought, to just stay in the Shire. His home was here and he might have to wander around all of Middle Earth before finding his Match. He should stick with what he knew was safe. Yes, he was sad to think of not meeting his soulmate but overall he prefered safety and stability to uncertainty and fear.

 

Bilbo never expected his soulmate would come find him.

 

* * *

 

As a child, Thorin had been excited about finally coming of age and seeing the name of his One for the first time. He loved to sit in his mother's lap and listen as she told him the story of how she'd met his father. Many of his days were spent fantasizing about what his One would be like, obviously they would be perfect but their personality and looks were a guessing game.

 

Smaug ruined those childhood dreams. Now he had no home to bring his One to, no money to use to create beautiful gifts and win their favor. Who would want a prince with no wealth and no kingdom?

 

(Sometimes Thorin wondered if he would even have a name on his wrist. So many dwarrows had died already and a deep name would not appear if it's bearer was dead. Maybe his One was already gone and he would never have to even worry about courting.)

 

For a long while, he pushed the issue to the back of his mind. There were more important things to be done, like keeping his family alive. Not even close to being of age, Thorin had to help his father in the forge or face starvation. Wandering the plains, the once elegant dwarrows of Erebor were reduced to no more than mere smiths, making items far below their skill level. But without the work, they would have no coin and therefore no food.

 

Thorin knew how much it upset his grandfather and father to see their people laid so low. He did his best to ignore their grumbling, he could do nothing about their position. To anger himself over it would be pointless. Working was essential. Complaining got nothing done.

 

The only freedom Thorin got was when he spent time with his younger siblings. Even in the worst of times, his little brother, Frerin, was bright and joking. It seemed nothing could bring him down for long. He was always there with a joke or two to keep their spirits up. Dís was more serious and forceful but would often slip into teasing. Her determination to change their position, to help bled through in all she did, even as a dwarfling. Thorin knew they both understood the reality of their situation but they refused to spend their lives worrying over it. When all three of them were together, he could forget their problems, for a minute. 

 

Then even that was taken from him. Thorin remembered vividly standing in the middle of a battlefield, bodies of orcs and dwarrows surrounding him. He remembered stumbling across the field, trying not to see the devastation. And seeing a flash of familiar fair locks. Turning to look, even as his brain screamed at him not to. Finding his brother on the ground, nearly cloven in two. For a second, his brain had refused to comprehend the image in front of him. He knelt and reached out... and felt nothing but blood and cold flesh. There was no life in this body and Thorin could not move, could not think. Hands pull him up and away, knowing that he being moved but he knew not where and he was blank. He did not know what to do.

 

They patted him on the back, saying how good it was that he slayed that beast Azog. They told him he is a hero, a king now too because his grandfather is dead and his father presumed so. Thorin watched them burn the bodies, led the group back to their families but was gone the whole time. He felt empty, as though something were missing.  _ Someone is missing _ , his treacherous mind whispered. 

 

Thorin did not cry, not until they returned home.  _ Not home, never home. Home was Erebor and it is gone. _ Then Dís came running out to meet them and saw the look on his face. She pulled him out to their small house and he broke down in her arms. For a few days they were allowed to grieve. But even though Thorin had still not come of age, he was the only King they had and needed to return. 

 

He had no experience and any training for politics had been years ago, when he was still young and paid no attention in his classes. The lords of Erebor would have gasped at his decisions and leadership had they still been in a position to do so. Thorin and Dís both grew colder without their brother there to balance their more solitary personalities out. They were not cruel or harsh leaders but they were aloof from their people.

 

Thankfully, they still had some friends. Balin had been trained as a diplomat and had been a spokesperson for their group of dwarrows during their travels and he did his best to help them. Dwalin was never good at speaking but he stayed loyal to Thorin through it all.

 

Thorin's birthday passed with little ceremony, the complete opposite of how his coming of age party would have gone if they were still in Erebor. There on the road, the King felt no need for celebration. For the first time in many years, he thought of his One. He wondered if they were dead now, so many more had died in the war, even dwarrows still in childhood. He wondered if there was perhaps already a dwarrow out in the world with his deep name on their wrist.

 

The dwarves of Erebor moved to the Blue Mountains then. It wasn't much better than wandering but his people felt more secure staying in one place. Through all the negotiating and decision making, Thorin always kept an eye on his wrist. Sometimes it took the name a while to appear, and so for a few years Thorin did not worry.

 

When he approached his first century, Thorin felt his mind begin to fill with doubt. No one he had heard of had ever had to wait this long, no one whose One was in the world. Slowly, fear crept up on him, reminding him of stories of poor dwarrows who never had a name on their wrists. Some of those said that those dwarves were just born at the wrong time, after the death of their One or too early before their birth. But some said that a few dwarrows never had a One and went through their entire lives knowing they were alone. Many dwarves may never find their One but at least knew they existed. A dwarrow with a blank wrist never knew during their lifetime whether they had a soulmate or not. Thorin didn't want to live in suspense and uncertainty about something that should have been so simple.

 

He hid it from the others, excepting Dís and Dwalin, who both knew him too well not to notice. Thorin let his people and the lords assume what they would and made sure to always cover his wrist. He told himself it didn't matter, that he didn't need his One.

 

Soon he would have others who may find out though. Dís had managed to locate her One several years ago and had given birth to two sons in an surprisingly short amount of time. Kíli and Fíli were excitable children and loved for their relatives to tell them tales about great adventurers and journeys.

 

Between working, ruling and helping his sister raise her children, Thorin had no free time. He didn't mind, except when business kept him from joining his family. He wanted to be there with them, to watch as his nephews grow older. They were nearly halfway to adulthood when their father was killed in an ambush by Orcs. Dís was devastated and did not leave her rooms for a week. Thorin had to take of care of Kíli and Fíli, both of whom had no idea how to deal with death and tragedy. He couldn't help but be reminded of his long dead brother, as the two tried to stay upbeat for their mother.

 

One night, as they were sitting around the small fire, Thorin felt a strange tingling sensation on his wrist. He dismissed it but later when he undressed, he looked at the area and then stared at it.

 

The faintest shadow of writing curled into indiscernible letters on his skin.

 

* * *

 

The stars glimmered brightly above her. Tauriel's arms spread out next to her as she watched the lights overhead. At this time, she was supposed to be in bed at home but the night sky had called to her, tempting her into sneaking out.

 

Thranduil would be be so difficult when he found out that his ward had been wandering out while it was late. Tauriel could stand a little anger when in return she got to see this. She knew that it would be Legolas who came to find her. He worried about her more than she had expected from the youngest prince when the King had taken her in.

 

Legolas was the only one of the three royal children who Tauriel felt had actually taken to her like she was really their sister, and not just some ward. The older two just ignored her. Laeg, the eldest, spent most of his time in the library, studying and learning. Tinniel, the only girl, cared more about her fighting style and leading the guard than her family.

 

Tauriel wondered if Legolas would have come with her to view the stars but she doubted it. He was always so caught up in pleasing his father that he would never think of disobeying him or leaving without permission. Every little thing he did had to be approved.

 

In the palace, Tauriel felt closed up and alone. When she came out here to think, it was though she is free, at least for a moment. The sky, open and endless, surrounded her and Tauriel felt as though she was up there, wandering among the lights. Under the stars, all of her worries evaporated in the breeze and she could ignore the problems she knew awaited her back home.

 

Tauriel was half asleep on the grass and when she closed her eyes, she was close enough to dreaming to see the face of her one love. She had never been disillusioned, she realized early on that her love was not an elf. Their face was too rough and bearded. Tauriel had the feeling they were not yet in the world but she waited for them, waited to get to know them.

 

She hoped they would understand her fascination and love for the lights that swirled overhead at night. She hoped beyond all hope that they would not be the type to hold her back or keep her from the things she loved. Tauriel was scared. Having a person destined to become yours did not mean that everything would work out all right and she worried over all that might go wrong.

 

To have another race for a soulmate was unusual and strange yet Tauriel had never thought it of much importance. Her soulmate was hers alone, why should the others know everything she did? She knew that they must be either a Man or a Dwarf, but both of those races only began to acknowledge their soulmate at their coming of age. She might have to wait for centuries or they might have already been born. For years, Tauriel had no reason to believe her love was out in the world and looking for her.

 

* * *

 

Kíli had grown up on stories of Ones meeting and falling in love. He had imagined a hundred times over the name, face and personality of his soulmate. He used to bother Fíli about it at night, leaning over to ask his brother question after question that neither of them knew the answers to.

 

It was when he was outside at night that he felt closest to finding his One. With the ceiling of stars above his head, Kíli felt as though he could accomplish anything he set out to do. Then he knew that his One was out there, waiting for him to find them.

 

It had both scared him and comforted him, that feeling. Kíli had spent his whole life living outside of the mountains, he was used to being able to wander freely and feel the sun on his skin. There were dwarves who would think him a traitor to his race for even wanting to see the sky and would think him unfit for any position in their government for not being born underground. Would his One being someone like that, someone who wouldn't understand his need to be outside? Would they think him crazy for loving the breeze that made his hair whip around his face? How he could love someone who didn't feel the same?

 

Kíli could never worry about that for too long. It felt wrong to think that his soulmate might not want him back or that he would never find them, so he pushed it out of his mind. He was confident in himself and in the fairness of the world, that everything would turn out all right. Kíli wasn't just sure he could find his One, he was sure that his family members would find theirs too. Even Uncle Thorin, whose soul mark had shown up so very late in his life.

 

When his soul mark began to appear, sometime around his fifty eighth birthday, Kíli thought he could run all the way to Erebor, he was so excited. The mark was early; most got theirs closer to their coming of age at sixty five. Soon, Kíli remembered thinking, he would know the deep name of his soulmate. Then he could begin his quest to find them.

 

The words began to be readable a week or so after the first smudges had appeared. He was surprised to see that the name was short, most deep names tended to be lengthy. It didn't really matter, or at least, it didn't until they realized what kind of name it was.

 

Not a dwarven deep name at all, but seemingly a flowing elven name. _Tauriel._ Kíli thought for some time that Uncle Thorin might just break his mind in his attempts to believe that it wasn't true. All his uncle knew was that elves had not helped them, had let them be killed and wander without homes. Kíli knew that too, but looking at the name on his wrist – _Tauriel, it was too beautiful to be bad_ –he couldn't help but feel that maybe Thorin was wrong about the elves.

 

He tried to talk to Fíli about it. His brother was unsure, too used to the tales they had always heard of the horribleness of elves to choose a side. Kíli ended up going to his mother, who took one look at him and folded him into her arms.

 

“My ukhuma, don't listen to your uncle. He is old, angry and set in his ways and if he said anything about it, a hypocrite too. Perhaps the elven King was not kind to us once but that does not mean all are like him. Are you like Balin? Is Gloin like Fíli? No. And your elf, whoever they are, would not be your One if they could not accept you,” Dís said, reassuring her terrified son.

 

“What if I am not theirs as they are mine?” Kíli whispered into her shoulder.

 

“Then they are missing out on a lovely young man and woe betide them if they hurt you.”

 

“I can fight my own battles now, Amad.”

 

“Of course you can, dearest.”

 

* * *

 

Thorin wanted to fight someone. He would have started on Dwalin had they not been in this _hobbit hole_ or whatever the hell it was called. All around him were fragile trinkets and ornaments on shelves that seemed as thought they would fall apart if he so much as breathed on them. Thorin might have just started a brawl anyway, if the fussy little creature who owned this home didn't seem as though he would collapse if anything happened.

 

 _Bilbo Baggins._ Thorin wanted to scowl and glare and curse that name out of existence. It shouldn't be possible, it shouldn't be real. He had gone his entire life without a soulmate, they – he shouldn't be able to just show up now, right before the most important journey of Thorin's life. This shouldn't have happened.

 

He glared at the damn wizard, if only to make himself feel better. There was no way for the old man to have known. No one, no one except his sister, knew the exact name scrawled on his wrist. It had to be a coincidence. Yet, that gleam in Gandalf's eye put Thorin off. The wizard was planning something, and it had been immediately obvious that this hobbit was not cut out for the quest.

 

He obviously was also unaware of most of the circumstances of the quest too. Bofur tried to explain about the dragon and the hobbit fainted. Like some cowardly weakling.

 

 _No,_ Thorin thought. _No_. _It is not possible for my soulmate to be this small timid creature with no courage._ The name on his wrist must lie, or be the name of some other person far away from here, because his One could not be a shy little hobbit that Gandalf wanted to pass off as a burglar. He would stake his life on the fact that the hobbit had never stolen anything in his life.

 

And... if this creature was his One, then he should stay far, far away from Erebor, from anywhere other than this quiet place that never saw danger or strife. Where he would be safe and –

 

No matter. The hobbit would not come on the journey. Thorin was sure of it.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo had never felt so faint in his life. Even when he'd been half his age now and could feel his knees shaking together as Farmer Maggot's dogs sprinted past his hiding place. He could hardly move and his breath came fast.

 

His hearing was still working but dimly, as though he were listening from behind a thick wall. His hearing, oh by the Green Lady. How did this happen? How did he go from knowing he would never find his soulmate to finding him in the space of less than a minute? What does one do –

 

What does one do when their Match is a conceited dwarf King who just insulted them? Bilbo felt his mouth answer automatically but he had no idea what was being said. The world was slowly coming back to him and he began to move again.

 

Bilbo trailed dejectedly after his Match, watching as the rest of the group greeted him warmly. He listened as they discussed some kind of quest, where were they going and why? Why had Gandalf decided that he was to go with them? What should he do?

 

It was no wonder that his legs gave out behind and his mind curled into himself when the be-hatted dwarf started talking of dragons. He'd had enough mental strain for a lifetime.

 

When he woke up, Bilbo was torn. Now he knew that these dwarves were going on some kind of crazy suicide mission to reclaim their kingdom. Going with them would mean abandoning all he had ever known, just to try and get to know his soulmate. His Match who probably didn't have him as his soulmate, judging by his reaction to Bilbo.

 

Bilbo told himself he wouldn't go, would save himself the pain of being rejected, or worse. He'd made up his mind, told the dwarves so, and was preparing to never see them again. That was when they began to sing. He recognized the first voice immediately and even as the others came in and layered their own voices over Thorin's, Bilbo could pick out the King's easily.

 

The music was full of such emotion, such loss. Bilbo felt an answering tug in his own chest and as much as he tried to ignore it, it grew. It pained him to hear Thorin's voice so low and full of pain and sorrow.

 

Morning came and Bilbo couldn't lie to himself anymore. He ran off after the company, trailing paper as he went.

 

* * *

 

Thorin would have wondered what he had missed, if he hadn't been so angry. The stupid little creature was supposed to stay in his home, not follow after them where he would most likely be hurt or killed. He shouldn't be out here but here he was.

 

For a split second, Thorin wondered if he was the hobbit's soulmate and if he knew. Then he shook the feeling off. The hobbit hadn't seemed to have any sort of reaction to the sound of his name and had been very irritated at all the dwarves in his home. No, if Thorin was this burglar’s One, he would know.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was sure these dwarves had no sense at all. Well, the fact that this quest existed at all was proof of that but honestly, they were ridiculous. Refusing to stop at hospitable places just because elves lived there, leading them into all sorts of dangerous situations, and, Thorin was the worst of all. Really, how could his Match be so dumb.

 

The idiot had nearly gotten himself killed earlier trying to fight some impossible battle against a much larger orc and now he was hardly stopping to rest. Bilbo had seen those bruises when they paused for a break earlier, Thorin needed to stop soon. But the stubborn King would never agree to it. Gandalf had promised to find them somewhere to stay yet Bilbo doubted they could get there in one day, not with the speed they had managed to accomplish.

 

Bilbo knew they needed to stop and rest. Most of them were dead on their feet, including him. Without a pause, he turned away from the main direction of the group, moving towards a faint but nearby sound of running water. Slowly, he moved away from everyone else and Bofur noticed, watching him cut sideways across the grass.

 

“Bilbo?” Bofur called, starting to follow him. “Where are ye going?”

 

Bilbo didn’t look back. “We need to rest and I can hear a stream.”

 

The rest of the Company glanced amongst themselves, unsure as to whom they would follow. There was a long stretch of silence as Bilbo got further and further away before Oin broke it.

 

“You,” he said, grabbing Thorin's arm. “need some proper looking over and I can't keep you alive if you insist on being an idiot. Follow the damn hobbit.”

 

Thorin glared at the healer but it was a sign of how much pain he must have been in that he sighed and said, “We will rest.”

 

Bilbo felt a little swoop of joy in his chest before he shoved in down ruthlessly. He reprimanded himself, it had been Oin who had gotten the dumb dwarf to give in, not him. He shuffled along, trying not to fall over where he stood, his ribs burned and his head ached. None of the plants around looked familiar or even edible and he sighed, wondering what they would eat tonight.

 

The dwarves stomped along after him and not for the first time, he wondered how any of them seriously thought they could sneak up on a dragon. Bilbo could pick out their individual footsteps, for goodness sakes. They would die in seconds.

 

The camp that night was quiet. There was hardly any food, only some bread from the bits that Nori and Gloin had managed to save. At least there was water but a fire was too risky, even though they shivered from cold. They huddled together against the wind and despite their exhaustion, slept fitfully. Oin went around and checked each one of them. Thorin was by far the worst off, but Bilbo's long fall had left him with possible cracked ribs and many of the others had small injuries.

 

When they finally reached the home of Gandalf's 'friend', Bilbo was very glad that the shapeshifter did not kill then for intruding on his land. Beorn was surprisingly welcoming and although rather ambivalent about the dwarves in his house, loved Bilbo. The hobbit got tired rather quickly of being picked up and carried around by the first time but allowed it, clutching tightly to his shoulder.

 

The company was quite unhappy about this and their glares followed Beorn around whenever he nabbed the hobbit. They went to strange measures to keep Bilbo on the ground, often including refusing to let go of his arm or, in Kíli's case, sitting on him. He promptly shut that down by shoving the ridiculous dwarf off of his lap.

 

In any case, it was one of those times where the dwarves were trying to keep Bilbo occupied and therefore away from Beorn that Ori began to question him about hobbit culture. The other dwarves protested at first, complaining about how boring they thought the discussion would be, until they realizing just how involved Ori and Bilbo both got into the talk, so much so that even Dwalin was afraid to try and separate them.

 

It was in the middle of a comparison of courting techniques that Kíli worked up the courage to interrupt.

 

“Bilbo?” he asked, “do hobbits have soulmates?”

 

Ori glanced at Kíli, his eyes lighting up with the possibility of more discoveries and turned to Bilbo, focusing on him intently. A red flush started to work it's way up Bilbo's neck as he realized all of the Company was listening now, curiosity oozing out of every pore.

 

“Yes, of course,” he stuttered. “Although I'm sure we have different ways of finding them then everyone else.”

 

Kíli leaned forward eagerly and spoke quickly. “We find ours because their name writes itself on our wrist around our coming-of-age.” There were several groans and glares expressing that the other dwarves felt that he shouldn't be sharing this information but Kíli paid them no heed.

 

“Really?” said Bilbo, perking up. “That seems both convenient and yet difficult.”

 

“Aye, it is,” Gloin cut in. “I remember long it took for my beautiful wife to tell me if it was my name on her wrist...”

 

Oin slapped the table. “No one wants to hear the tale of your courting for the hundredth time, brother.”

 

Gloin deflated a bit, huffing at his older brother and leaning in closer to Bilbo, loudly whispering, “We spent years together before even discussing names.” His chest inflated a little with pride of his long and thought-out courtship and many years of marriage.

 

“I'm sure it was lovely,” Bilbo said, smiling kindly at Gloin.

 

Ori smoothly snuck back into the conversation, saying innocently, “You never told us how hobbits find their soulmates, Master Baggins.”

 

Bilbo twitched and spun back to face Ori, “Oh dear, sorry. And call me Bilbo, please.” He paused and let his mind mull over how to word the next sentence. “Do any of you know how elves find their soulmate?”

 

“Dreaming of their face, wasn't it?” Bofur replied, frowning softly.

 

Bilbo nodded. “Yes. Hobbits are similar, in that we know our Match through our dreams, except that we do not see ours, we hear them.”

 

Ori brows wrinkled in thought. “So you hear their voice in your dreams, and that's how you recognize them when you're awake?”

 

“Exactly!” Bilbo beamed at the young dwarf, who smiled shyly back and went to scribbling in his journal.

 

“So what, you just go wandering around the Shire until you hear your soulmate's voice?” Fíli questioned.

 

“No, no.” Bilbo shook his head. “That's what the Summer festivals are for. All the hobbits of the Shire and Bree gather for parties and activities over the course of a week and that's where most meet their Match.”

 

“Wouldn't work very well if hobbits lived more spread apart,” Nori observed.

 

Bilbo smiled sadly, “No. It would not.”

 

* * *

 

Kíli wasn't sure why he asked Bilbo about soulmates.

 

Well, that wasn't true. If he really though about it, there was a great reason to ask Bilbo about that, especially in front of his uncle.

 

He wasn't stupid, even though many of the Company would beg to differ. People, he was good with. Ideas, not so much. His uncle was practically an open book by this point and Kíli wasn't fooled by his tough demeanor.

 

He'd known his uncle's One wasn't a dwarf since Thorin had known himself. His uncle hadn't been very good at hiding the still sore wrist and Kíli always was a little too curious for his own good. True, he didn't remember accurately what the name had been, but his uncle's reactions to the hobbit were enough to give him an idea of what it said.

 

There had been another reason though, to talk to Bilbo. He needed a distraction. The name on his wrist felt like it was burning it's way through his skin and into his brain. Kíli had had it for years now and had thought before about going to search and find his One, whoever they were. And then they had fallen down a hole and emerged in Rivendell.

 

He'd gone around to every elf he saw, asking for names and doing his best to give reasonable answers for why he was doing so. Kíli didn't think most of them had believed his excuses at all. His quest had been cut off by their sudden departure and now every beat of his heart sent a pulse through his wrist. What if he'd missed his chance? What if he had left his One behind and was never going to make it back to them again? How would they feel?

 

His wrist throbbed and Fíli leaned into his shoulder, watching him worriedly.

 

* * *

 

Tauriel shot up in bed, clutching her head. Breathing hard, she curled over her knees and sat there for a long while, not moving. Her dreams had been turbulent of late. What should have been lovely dreams of her soulmate had turned into nightmares.

 

She had felt it, her soulmate's recognition of her. When an elf's one love was born, the older one would receive a more vivid dream than ever before. But as her soulmate was not an elf, Tauriel had not gotten the dream at the time of their birth, but at the time they came-of-age and received their own way of identifying her.

 

A few years ago, she had woken up with the clearest mental image of her love she had ever had. And Tauriel had known that her soulmate was out there, waiting for her. For the first time in her long life, she felt trapped here, in this forest she had always called her home. Here, she could not go looking for her love and each day that passed took them farther from her. With a mortal for a soulmate, their time would be limited but she had been unable to convince herself to leave her home. Every hour was another that she would never get to spend with them.

 

That thought was what had started the nightmares. Nearly daily she dreamed of their death, of them leaving this world before she ever got to know them. Or worse, finally finding them only for it to be too late. Her fading chance haunted her and every glimpse of the world beyond Mirkwood tugged at her heart. Who knew what dangers out there were threatening to take her soulmate from her and she was not there to protect them and their loved ones.

 

The worry burned at her and Tauriel struggled to hid it form Legolas. He had been her only close friends for centuries and knew her well enough to think of her as a sister-by-choice. She wanted to talk with him, to see if he would understand but she knew how he felt about soulmates. For whatever reason, he did not like to discuss them and would often immediately leave the conversation if anyone so much as mentioned dreams. To try to bring it up with him would be break his trust in her.

 

So Tauriel had no one to beg advice from, no one who could set her on the right path. The only thing that could take her mind off the issue were patrols deep in the heart of Mirkwood. The infestation of spiders grew worse and the fighting kept her busy and blessedly free of time to think.

 

Or it did, until one scout reported seeing travelers in the depths of the forest. She clenched her fists and tried to not imagine Thranduil's rage when he found out.

 

“You are sure?” she asked carefully. “It was dwarves?”

 

“Yes,” the scout answered dutifully. “They were too short to be men. There was about 14 of them, it was hard to tell.”

 

“And they are headed for a spiders' nest?”

 

“It would seem they have lost their way.”

 

Tauriel turned, rubbing one hand over her face. This would have to be dealt with. Soon.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was exhausted. Weeks of wandering around this endless forest, sleepless nights, and now he had to hide from elves in their own home. His reputation would never recover and he wasn't sure he would either. It took him days to even find everyone and the never-ending patrol of guards forced him to keep moving. He hadn't slept properly since they got here.

 

Tiredness was sneaking up on him, so much so that Bilbo wasn't exactly sure if he was still awake at the moment. Snippets of voices intruded on his thoughts, some definitely real from the guards and some that he wasn't quite certain about. Thorin's singing was a frequent contender in the battle for dominance and that he knew that couldn't be real. Thorin's cell was far from here. His dreams were encroaching into life. That was bad. He needed sleep, not just naps whenever he found time.

 

Bilbo rubbed his head. He couldn't think, his head was foggy. Thorin was relying on him and he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it.

 

* * *

 

Tauriel leaned on the wall of her room, breathing hard. She'd managed to postpone that freak out until she was alone in her own rooms. It couldn't have been real, could it? How could that happen? Why would it happen? She couldn't... she wouldn't... she...

 

It was him. He was her soulmate. And she didn't even know his name. Or that he was truly a male for that matter, dwarves were notoriously gender neutral. What should she do? Talk to him? He was a prisoner. Thranduil, even if Legolas begged him not to, would banish her if he thought she was consorting with dwarves.

 

She pressed her forehead into her hand, considering her options. Letting her love go was not possible. But she did not want to isolate herself from her home or her brother-of-choice. Tauriel held back a groan as she rubbed her head.

 

Suddenly her door opened and she snapped to attention. Seeing it was only Legolas, she relaxed.

 

“Mellon?” he questioned, noticing her tenseness.

 

“Sorry, Legolas, I am distracted today.”

 

His face clouded. “Yes, I am worried also. Father wants to speak with the leader of the group.”

 

Tauriel winced. “That will end well.”

 

Legolas sent her an exasperated look, “And you are not the one who has to deal with both the dwarves themselves and my father afterwards.”

 

Tauriel forced a convincing smile for her friend. “I'm sure you will survive, mellon.”

 

* * *

 

 _Kíli, Kíli._ His name resounded through her brain. _Did hers do the same?_

 

Talking with him was not enough. Tauriel wanted to grab him, to hold him under the stars in the night sky. She wanted to take him out of the cell but it would be noticed. Forced to regulate the time she spent with him, Tauriel took every chance she could to guard the cells. Then she could talk with him, at least for a minute or two.

 

It was so hard to stand there and try to seem normal and adjusted. It was hard for her not to just break open the cell and run away with him. Tauriel wished she could see him without bars separating them. His face was so expressive, more so than anyone she'd ever known and she wanted to sit across from him and watch him speak. Every feeling he had spread across his face, giving her a window to his thoughts.

 

She lost herself in her desire to be with Kíli. On one patrol a spider nearly got through to her, on another she cut herself on her own blade. Legolas worried over her, pressing her to tell him about her problems. Tauriel could only ignore him for so long. There was no time.

 

* * *

 

Kíli tried not to react when he heard her name, when the blond with the sour look called her over, called her away from him. _Tauriel._ He'd found her, it had to be her. There was no one else it could be. He'd felt something, something strange and new when he'd seen her the first time and now he knew why. She was his One. But was he hers?

 

There was no guarantee that they would be a matched pair. No elf had ever admitted to having a dwarven soulmate before, that Kíli knew of, and it was the same for dwarrows. She had not seemed to be surprised to see his face, but he knew elves were good at hiding emotion. He decided to try again, to talk to her for real next time, instead of jokes.

 

Thank Mahal Uncle was nowhere near him. Although Fíli would definitely make this difficult.

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin wanted to break something. He wanted to fight, to hurt someone. Anger flowed through his veins instead of blood. This had not been a good couple weeks. Captured by those damn elves, _barrels_ , this ridiculous Master of the Laketown or whatever this shitty little town was. And Bilbo was sick.

 

He tried to pretend that that last wasn't the most worrying but every stirring upstairs had him pausing, afraid he'd woken the sleeping hobbit. The burglar kept insisting that he would be fine soon enough and Thorin wanted to believe him so badly. He'd known too many who had collapsed from sickness and never awoken. Starvation and tiredness could ruin the toughest of dwarves and Bilbo was no dwarf.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Thorin sat, feeling helpless. They were so close and yet it seemed as though they would never reach the mountain. He needed to stand at the foot of Erebor, to at least get that close.

 

* * *

 

Gold sickness. Bilbo wondered if any of them had ever really thought about it. They certainly hadn't planned for it. Would a plan have even worked when even Kíli and Fíli were distracted by the treasure. What could one hobbit do?

 

He fingered the Arkenstone in his pocket and wished there was some other plan to be had.

 

* * *

 

Thorin stumbled, clutching his ribs. The wound burned and every movement of his arm tugged at the broken skin. He pulled himself to his feet, sounds of battle raging around him. The ground was slick with blood and it was only thanks to luck that he had not been attacked already.

 

Dwalin, Kíli and Fíli had all been forced away by the endless flow of orcs. Thorin refused to think on where they were, if they were injured. Worry would not help now, not when he had more fighting to do. He cut off any thought of Bilbo. By now the hobbit would be long gone, far away from the danger. Thorin had made sure of that. He had also made sure that he had no right to fear for the hobbit. No right at all to even think of him.

 

No, the hobbit did not deserve his protection or worry. He had turned away his One, and that was the greatest crime of them all. He would lead his people but he would never lose the shame and guilt. That could not be forgotten. Thorin grabbed his sword, hefting it as high as he was able.

 

He could not make up for his failure.

 

His cry echoed across the battlefield.

 

“To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!”

 

* * *

 

Kíli blocked one blow from a very determined orc, and started to turn to check behind him when a strong pair of hands shoved him out the way. The world seemed to almost slow down as he heard the thud of a sword hitting flesh and saw a flash of long red hair.

 

Within seconds, both orcs in the vicinity were dead and he and Tauriel were alone. They were safe where they were, having being pushed back into a sort of crevice in the mountain, out of the way of the battle. Finally, what had just happened registered and Kíli shot up from his sprawl on the ground.

 

“Tauriel!”

 

The elf, his One, glanced at him, her hand resting almost lazily on the wound in her stomach.

 

He reached for her, “You're hurt!”

 

She used her other hand to gently move him away. “It is not deep. I will be fine.”

 

He watched her, determined to tell if she was lying to him. Sensing nothing, he pulled away.

 

“You need to find your family,” Tauriel told him quietly. “They need you.”

 

He began to leave, looking back at her over his shoulder.

 

“Go!” she urged him.

 

As soon as Kíli had disappeared around the corner, Tauriel sank down, leaning back against the rock of the mountain behind her. For the moment, she was isolated from the battle by the rocks around her but it would not be long before she was found. Her knees felt weak and she finally gathered the courage to remove her hand.

 

Immediately, the blood flow picked up and she could tell that the wound was bad. Not fatal now but if she kept fighting and left it untreated, it could be. Tauriel couldn't stay here and keep it from getting worse. Soon she would be found and it would be best to leave before then.

 

She ripped off a long piece of the bottom of her tunic and tied it around her waist, hoping it would provide some pressure. Staggering upright, she collected her strength and crept out into the battle. Tauriel had people to keep alive.

 

She would play her part in this fight and hope it ended soon. That was all she could do.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo could not stay out of the battle. For all that had happened, for all the hurt in his heart, he could not stay away. His friends were fighting for their lives and he could not live with himself if he only watched and did not join.

 

Gandalf tried to dissuade him but stopped as he saw the look in his eyes. The wizard nodded slowly and gave him one last hug before turning to join the ranks of elves that had filled into the space at the foot of the mountain.

 

Looking out onto the field and watching the orcs come swarming down, Bilbo felt his courage shrivel up in his chest. The amount of orcs charging down that hill brought fear straight into his heart and he breathed hard, trying to dispel it. He reused to give up, give in and leave like they had all wanted him to. The choice had been made and Bilbo would stick with it. He could not abandon his friends.

 

His fingers trembled around the handle of his little sword and he was glad that the spot he had picked was situated behind the elves, who kept the bulk of the orcs back. Each glance down at the battle below made him both angry and scared. Bilbo wanted to rage at the ruin the orcs were bringing but he had never before felt more timid as he watched man, dwarf and elf fall under the onslaught.

 

For longer than he wished to remember later, Bilbo lingered on the outskirts, too afraid to go searching for the Company. Then he heard it, the shout that rang throughout the entire battlefield. Thorin calling everyone to him, giving them something to center on. Without even thinking, his focus had immediately snapped to the voice of his Match and his body automatically moved towards the sound.

 

With the shout still ringing in his ears, Bilbo dove into battle, slipping on his ring and slicing the backs of the legs of orcs as he ran by. He knew there was not much someone like him could do in a situation like this but Bilbo was determined to try.

 

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

 

 

 

 


	2. Sad Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... because I felt like a terrible person for leaving everyone with a cliffhanger, and I have less to do today then normal, I thought I'd post my hcs on the ending.
> 
> I have two main ideas, one that hurts my heart and one where I fix everything and make it all happy because I can't deal with the pain.
> 
> Warning: This is the (very short) sad ending. There is talk of injuries and character death.

Tauriel clutched at her stomach and nearly fell over onto her knees. The wound burned and she had lost too much blood. Her vision was fuzzy and she knew she had worked herself too hard. Now it would be difficult for the wound to heal and she could not leave the battle yet.

 

She would not leave the battle yet. Kíli had disappeared into the crowd long ago and Tauriel did not want to rest until she saw him again.

 

Every step was a war with her addled brain. She lost control of her legs and dropped to the ground. Her mind went blank as pain swept through her core and overrode her thoughts, making her lose consciousness.

 

* * *

 

Kíli swung his sword desperately, feeling worn out and ready to collapse. His left arm hung limply, at least he'd run out of arrows many minutes ago. It was rather difficult to block threats with only one arm but he had held up so far. Shooting a bow would have been impossible.

 

He kept getting distracted. Every flash of familiar looking face caught his eye and turned his attention away from the fight. Kíli knew it was a bad idea but he had not seen Fíli, Tauriel, Thorin or anyone from the Company since his One had shoved him back out into the fight to look for them.

 

In one such instance, Kíli was too busy scanning the surroundings to notice the sword swiping at his unprotected back.

 

* * *

 

Thorin could still feel the pain of his injuries, although it seemed to get farther and farther away with each breath that passed through his lips. He could feel his consciousness, mostly likely also his life, slipping away like water through his fingers.

 

At the moment, it didn't bother him. What did it matter if he went to the halls of his ancestors? Thorin had apologized to Bilbo but he would not hold the hobbit to the words he had spoken. There was no reason for the hobbit to forgive him, so there was one less reason to stay.

 

He hoped the boys were all right. Dís would kill him if they were not.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo sat quietly on a rock on the outskirts of the battlefield, facing away from the gore. Every thud of his heart echoed painfully throughout his head and he felt drained. Just existing felt like a chore.

 

He knew he should sleep, he had not slept properly in months. But to dream, for once without sound, without his voice – no. No, he could not do it. Several of his friends were dead or dying. The rest had all been wounded, some in ways that would heal easily.

 

Bilbo wanted to go home. This was no place for a hobbit.

 


	3. Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the happy ending. It will make a little more sense if you read the sad one as this ending builds off of the stuff that happened in that part. However, no one dies in this one. (well no main characters)

Tauriel stumbled out of her little hiding place on the battlefield and into the chaos. She'd only been fighting for a minute or two before she felt someone grab her arm and jerk her out of the main group. If the person holding hadn't obviously been a dwarf with nearly white hair, she would have taken their head off.

 

The dwarf pulled her into a tent that had been set up out of the way of the battle, protected by a layer of Iron Hills dwarves. Stopping by one of the beds, she was pushed down on it and did her best to glare at the dwarf who had dragged her here. They ignored her weak stare and put their hands on their hips, looking her up and down.

 

“Ye may be an elf but I know that a wound like that needs treatment,” they snapped authoritatively. “Are ye goin' to let me help, or do I have to tie ye down?”

 

Tauriel huffed, avoiding the questioning look of the dwarf, who had to be a healer of some sort. “I need to fight.”

 

“Course ye do,” they stated matter-of-fact, “That's ignoring my question though.”

 

Tauriel sighed and acquiesced to their will, shedding her shirt so that the dwarf could clean and sew up the wound. As they inspected it, she received an irritated frown. “How long have ye been sitting on this?”

 

Tauriel saw no reason to lie. “A few minutes.”

 

The healer hummed in thought and got to work. Tauriel sat, trying to stay stoic and ignore the pain. When they were finished, the dwarf leaned back and watched her.

 

“Ye should really rest. Keep from moving and opening that back up.”

 

She couldn't do that. She couldn't. Kíli was still out there and she hadn't seen Legolas in hours. “I can't.”

 

“Got someone out there do ye?”

 

Tauriel's head snapped up and she watched them suspiciously.

 

“Oh, don't look at me like that. Anyone with eyes could see that you want to protect someone.”

 

Tauriel found herself trying to hold back a small smile. Thranduil would hate the implication that elves were anything less than perfectly emotionless. Legolas would pretend to agree but in private would roll his eyes and whisper some comment to her about his father's failings.

 

The dwarf looked at her steadily for a long minute before sighing and standing. “Well, if ye insist, go. At least ye aren't in danger of collapsing on the spot anymore.”

 

Tauriel got up carefully, dressed, and collected her sword and bow. Before leaving, she turned around and faced the dwarf. “Thank you,” she said with feeling, bowing to the healer.

 

The dwarf raised an eyebrow. “It's my job. But you're welcome, lass.”

 

Tauriel swept out and back into the terrors of battle.

 

* * *

 

Kíli waded through battle, sure that he was farther away from his brother than he'd been the entire time. He wasn't even sure when they'd lost sight of each other, only that they had and that he hadn't seen Fíli for hours. He wished that at least Tauriel was still with him.

 

A flash of familiar looking dark hair caught his eye and Kíli paused mid swing, peering at the distant dwarf. Suddenly, two things happened at once, his shoulder was jerked back by a hand and a sharp pain ran up the hand of that arm. He glanced around and saw that Bifur had pulled him out of the way of a blow that could have ruined his shoulder but instead had only nicked his hand.

 

Nodding a thanks to Bifur, who grunted in return, Kíli disciplined himself, knowing that he had to pay better attention to his surroundings in a battle such as this with enemies on every side.

 

* * *

 

Thorin blinked awake, his body feeling distant and heavy. He tried to sit up, freezing immediately at the unbearable pain. A voice called to him, “Oh, no no. Lay down, you'll hurt yourself.” Light little touches skimmed down his chest and sides, checking his bandages.

 

Turning his head, Thorin saw distinctive curly hair bent over his wounds. “Master Baggins?” he rasped.

 

Bilbo jumped and stared at him for a second before breaking out into a broad smile. “You're awake! How are you feeling?”

 

Thorin didn't answer, too busy being confused because Bilbo was still here. Bilbo had started to look worried and was reaching for his forehead when Oin burst into the room.

 

“Oin!” the hobbit exclaimed, startled. “He's up, but he hasn't said anything.”

 

The healer took one look at the scene and gently pushed Bilbo out of the way. He immediately took care of Thorin's injuries, grumbling at the King the entire time. When Thorin finally was released, Bilbo had gone.

 

For weeks, Thorin saw almost nothing of the hobbit. Every time he awoke, another member of the Company was there, but never was it Bilbo again. He greeted each person warmly and asked for forgiveness for his actions more times then he could count. Yet none of them seemed to blame him, telling him there was nothing he needed to apologize for.

 

Thorin began to wonder if his talk with Bilbo the evening after the battle had been nothing but an illusion, hallucinated in his pain to soothe his mind. When he drifted awake one day to find Bilbo writing and humming some unknown song, he stopped breathing.

 

Bilbo seemed to notice the change in the tensions of the room and glanced over at Thorin, sitting up straight when he saw the dwarf was awake. “Thorin!” he greeted brightly, as though this was normal.

 

Thorin pulled himself up, ignoring Bilbo worried noises and fluttering hands. Reaching out, he grasped the hands that were still flailing about. “You are here.”

 

Bilbo, still appearing distracted by Thorin's disregard for his injuries, nodded absentmindedly. “Of course I am. Why should I leave?”

 

“I don't deserve your kindness or companionship,” the dwarf stated, watching the play of emotions across Bilbo's face. He was surprised to find that the first one was anger.

 

“Why ever not? You already apologized for what happened and it wasn't as though you were yourself anyway,” the hobbit said, huffing in irritation.

 

Thorin thought bleakly that while he had been under the control of gold sickness, it had felt like he had acted rationally and he had never thought that anything had been wrong. He felt a lump of shame disgust and shame rise up in his throat but Bilbo cut him off before he could voice it.

 

“Oh, I can guess what that looks means. Stop it. You're better now.” The hobbit glared at him, daring him to challenge the assertion. Then he continued rather absently, “And there's no way you're getting rid of me.” Pausing, Bilbo realized what he'd just said and blushed.

 

Thorin digested this as the hobbit busied himself with looking over his wounds. “Bilbo,” he said, “I would be honored if you stayed for any length of time.”

 

Bilbo smiled at him gently. “Silly dwarf. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that it's over, I just wanted to explain some things in this chapter. 
> 
> 1\. Tauriel's healer is not Oin, just a dwarf from the Iron Hills who doesn't care for all this race hatred shit.  
> 2\. Kili still gets distracted and gets hurt but avoids dying by finding other members of the Company who keep an eye on him.  
> 3\. Thorin and Bilbo still have the deathbed apology scene, as I call it, from the book. I've always felt that this is a really important event in their relationship, because if they don't have something like it, how can they make up and be friends/more after everything that happened? I included it to give them something to rebuild their relationship with.


End file.
